


Lose a battle, win a war

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: “I called you a friend, a brother in arms,” The man interrupted harshly. “You know how I felt about Duncan, about all of the of them dead in Ostagar. Why would you betray me like this?”





	Lose a battle, win a war

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr drabble posted on Vergil's blog (icy-warden on tumblr) with minor edits.
> 
> Timeline: after the Landsmeet [Alistair is going to become a king and marry Anora; Loghain was spared to become a Warden]

Vergil stood stiffly near the bookcase, arms folded on his chest, watching the man pacing before him. Alistair was agitated, visibly collecting himself to make the speech. The mage observed his companion in silence, waiting, with a foolish optimism, that this still could be salvageable.

That he will gain his goal.

Alistair _had to_ see beyond his bitterness. Vergil needed, no, he _had_ to make him _see_ , that four Wardens would have more chance in completing this hopeless task.

Just one more obstacle to overcome, he thought. One and a thousand more in the future, and he _will_ have his future. He will grasp at any chance to live beyond the Blight.

“I don’t understand,” The mage heard Alistair talking at last. “I try to see how you could make a decision like that, and I still can’t get it.” The confused hurt was evident in his voice.

“He hunted us like animals, sent an assassin to kill us, harmed Arl Eamon, the only reliable ally we had at the time! Have you forgotten, how hard it was to get anything done?!”

 _I remember it just fine,_ Vergil thought. _I clearly remember the burden of leadership, every mistake and scrutiny coming with it, and you, judging from the distance. But not forthcoming with taking the responsibility by yourself._ He didn’t say it out loud, though.

“Soon you’ll be the king Alistair,” he said calmly, “and you’ll see, that often being in command leads to doing things you don’t like.”

“Ah, yes.” The warrior snorted. “The kingship you _gifted_ me with.”

“It was your choice to take it.”

“And to take _Loghain,_ ” he spat the name with a sneer, “as a Warden? You defiled the name of Wardens with this! It’s an honour _that murderer doesn’t deserve to have!_ ”

“I won’t argue with you, if either it is an honour for him or not,” Vergil said, holding his palm up, to stop another angry rant. He raised his tone slightly. “We _need_ more men, and he will make it through the Joining or not, then you’ll have him dead. You heard Riordan. Whoever kills the dragon-”

“So he’ll be dying as a hero, then? Wonderful plan, a traitor and war criminal on the pedestal after all!”

 _He’s not listening_ , the mage clenched his jaw, irritated.

“Alistair-”

“I called you a friend, a brother in arms,” The man interrupted harshly. “You know how I felt about Duncan, about all of the of them dead in Ostagar. Why _would_ you betray me like this?”

 _By the Void, it’s personal,_ Vergil realized, looking at Alistair in astonishment. _He thinks it’s a personal insult to his name._ Vergil lost before he even acted. He was slipping.

Still, he had to _try._ He took a deep breath.

“ _Four_ Wardens are better than _three_. Because all of us _will perish_ , if we won’t take our chances. Because, whenever we like it or not, half of the country still is loyal to Loghain! Killing him now would be a _waste_ of resources and experience he still has!” At the blank look from the future king, the mage felt himself becoming desperate. “We need his potential as a general and a man who actually fought for longer than us. This is a war we _must not lose_ , at any cost!”

There was a cold, calculating look on Alistair’s face, one that Vergil had never seen before.

“No. I turned a blind eye on your methods,” he looked at him meaningly, “but _this_ is too much. I said I’m leaving the Wardens and I’m not changing my mind.”

 _At time like this he finally grew a pair_ , Vergil thought absentmindly. The wave of exhaustion sudennly hit him, his posture sagging. He vacantly looked at the floor under his feet.

“I think we’re done, _Commander.”_ The mage heard Alistair say with clear disdain. “You should go and see, if your preciuos murderer is as tough, as you hoped, to live through the Joining.”

 _I’m tired_. At that moment Vergil felt _so_ lonely, the months of stress and hardships eating him alive. His patience and endurance for fools, that refuse to see, under _so_ much strain.

It finally snapped.

Vergil shrugged, feeling like coming back from the Fade. He straightened his frame and looked at his former companion, eyes sharp and chill fury in his chest.

“You speak of _honour,_ yet you walk away from the duty, at the eve of final battle. And because of what, a _personal grudge?_ ” When a shocked silence met him, he carried on, voice deceptively calm, words laced with venom. “You were there, swearing to defend the land from the Blight, because _In War, Victory In Peace, Vigilance In Death, Sacrifice,_ “ Vergil pointed with a hiss, “You _think_ Duncan would let go of an opportunity like this, to tilt the scales of winning, because of _an animosity?_ “

It was a gamble, playing with the memory of a dead Warden, but he was done being cautious. If he had to be cruel, so be it.

“How _dare_ you slander him like that!” Alistair shouted in outrage. “I had enough, get out!”

“You hold him so high, refusing to see he was a pragmatic man, who would leap at the chance-”

“I said, get out!” Alistair screamed taking a threating steps toward him, but Vergil only tilted his chin upwards in a challenge. “-because Wardens do what’s necessary to end the Blight, _whatever it takes!_ ” The mage shouted the last part.

He stood his ground, even when the warrior stopped a few feet before him, towering over, seething with anger.

“You mean your ruthless, bloody way of dealing with problems?” Alistair spat with vehemence. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, just because I didn’t speak up. You _should_ watch out when showing it in the open.”

Vergil flinched, as slapped.

“At least I don’t shirk to get my hands _dirty_ , whenever I feel like it.” He hissed, staring Alistair dead in the eye.

Then he turned away from him and stormed out of the room.

They were truly done here.

 

* * *

 

The mage closed the door to his room and leaned back on them heavily. Four became three, three still could be two. Two versus a horde and a corrupted dragon.

Two at the beginning.

Probably two at the end.

Vergil closed his eyes in resignation. He needed a moment, a while of not thinking about anything. He’ll clear his mind and then he’ll go to check on Riordan and Loghain, they’ll plan on strategy and…

He cursed.

He felt the strength in his legs leaving them, so he slided clumsily to the floor. Cold and hot waves under his skin. He brought up his knees and leaned his head on them.

Just a minute to calm his breathing and racing heart. To get rid of this foul feeling of dread. Of an impending end and _no way out_. Blood welled in his mouth – he’s bitten his lip so hard, the skin broke. He swallowed it along with the lump in his throat. A hysterical sob bubbled deep in his chest.

He had to find a way.

_Whatever the cost._


End file.
